A Moment of Weakness
by Xavirne
Summary: When Inquisitor Shepard has a bit too much to drink, she seeks out her favorite blonde-Commander Cullen. [Cullen x Inquisitor]
**Wrote this while on a plane back to Boston after a lovely vacation in Florida. Plane had free Wi-Fi so I figured why not. My apologies if it's not of the same caliper as my others works.**

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Her eyes flutter across the space between them. Heart skipping a beat, she begins to count the lines in the wood sprawled out before her vivid jade orbs. Drawing in a hitched breath, she forces her gaze up and over to the space behind the desk.

There's a void. Emptiness.

But how? Her eyes widen as panic sets in. Was Cullen not there when she entered? Surely he was. He did invite her in after all!

Am I losing my mind; she quivers her lower lip. How embarrassing, she thinks. To have entered Cullen's domain without him actually being present.

I'm a fool, the redhead kicks herself before shaking her head. Pitifully, she rubs her temples before gritting back the headache she mustered up hours before-she really ought to stop drinking with the Bull. His...whatever...caused the worst of pains! It also made a daft and, dare she admit it? Pathetic. More so on the grounds of being a hopeless romantic caught up in the Cullen-fever as she liked to call it.

With her eyes still shut and her mind antagonizing over this dull, droning feeling that rattled her brain, she must have missed the light moan in the floorboards above.

It was the fleeting brush of a hand across her shoulders that causes her peridot gaze to shoot open.

With uncanny speed, her hands rushed for the daggers tucked neatly beneath the leather flap of her long cost.

Whirling out, they soon met the creamy flesh of the one who dared try to flank her!

She grunted out something but soon cussed when she realized her blade hadn't drawn blood. Pupils falling into tiny slits, she wore a scowl. Then came the growl.

"State your na-"

The venom in her voice fell away as her eyes finally drank in the taller, clad in armor and lleather, face before her.

"Maker's sake," she said breathlessly while noticing Cullen's sword tucked neatly below her daggers, keeping the lethal blow just centimeters from her veins.

"Inquisitor," the words seemed stiff. He was caught off guard. Completely uncertain as to whether he was really dealing with Lady Shepard or some mind magic.

Dropping the blades, the redhead fell to her knees. Only, before she landed with a hard thud against the floor, a gentle, guiding hand softened her fall. It was graceful and, well, sweet.

Wrapping his arms around her, Cullen pulled the Herald into her lap. Slowly, he combed his hands through her shoulder-lenght hair.

"Shepard," that familiar tone she'd come to thirst for drew forth her tears. His rich amber eyes caught her emotions, which sent his heart into a tizzy. For so long, he had wanted this. She had wanted this. They had wanted this.

Shepard's head shifted forward and laid softly against the material the protected his chest. Forcing her breath to steady, she exhaled before rolling her tormented eyes up to him.

"I should... I should go." Shepard felt a lump form in her throat. She hated this. This weakness brought on by fatigue and dehydration. Oh and that damned concoction the Bull shared with her.

"No," his voice was strangely firm, but in a good way. The blonde's hands squeezed her forearm some before draping down over her elbow and around her thigh and hips. "I-I..." his cheeks were as pink as a nug.

"You, you," she teased while regaining her confidence. She refused to let her emotions drive her down the path of 'woe is me' again. She could and would have the upper hand here. She hadn't stammered across Skyhold to cry in his lap. No, she came for something more.

Shepard's hand found it's place on Cullen's jaw. It was scruffy and caused her hand to itch some. But oh was it warm. And oh did she love the scent of him. The redhead would often cross paths with Cullen just to eat up his smell. It drove her mad. Wild.

Leaning in, her lips spasmed. The devilish gleam in her eye caught the blonde commander to choke on his words.

"Kiss me," she demanded.

The crestfallen look on his face tore at her heart. He was...he wasn't going to indulge her.

From the look now on her face, one of remorse and shame, Cullen knew his gesture pained her. "Shepard," his tone was as soft as velvet. "You're drunk. And I...I can't." Her eyes glimmered with tears again. Cupping her face in his hands, Cullen's forehead collided with hers.

Cheeks burning red now, he forced out his confession. "Trust me, I want to. And I will. But I can't. Not now. Not with you in this state of mind. I'm not that kind of man. I can't and won't take advantage of you."

Her eyes grew wide with admiration and passion. "Cullen," she whispered while nesting her head against his chest again. "I...I..."

Gently, he rubbed her back. "Shhhh," he cooed. "I'll stay. I'll always be here. Right here by your side. I won't let anything happen to you. Not again."

Shepard likely missed the last bit for that fatigue finally plagued her to the point of blacking out. Her body fell limp against his as slumber clutched her. His steady, placid breathing lulled her into peaceful nightmare-less sleep. For once, she would actually sleep in peace.

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 **Wasn't going to write more but did (bus rides are damn boring). The continuation of this one is called "Breathtaking."**


End file.
